


A First Encounter

by obwjam



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, The Borrowers - All Media Types
Genre: G/T, GT, Gen, Giant/Tiny, Marvel Universe, Reader-Insert, giant tiny - Freeform, posted this over on my tumblr and figured i'd post it here too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-07 00:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obwjam/pseuds/obwjam
Summary: Borrower!reader meets Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool.





	1. Chapter 1

“N-no, get away!” you screamed, your throat burning with every breath you took. Your legs were jelly, but you kept running. This was life or death.

The animal snarled as it slowly prodded toward you. These were the dreaded cats you had heard about. It was one of the hazards of having to borrow materials outside. Why did you have to be a city borrower? Why couldn’t you live in a nice farm house?

Suddenly, the cat pounced, and you took a chance and dove to the side, sinking into a bouncy plastic bag with your hands over your head.

But there was no noise that followed. No growl, no cat breath. You slowly turned around, almost certain you were going to be met face-to-face with a cat face, but you weren’t. Instead, you heard something else.

“Shoo, shoo, you insufferable beast!”

The cat started hissing at a new target, you looked up, but couldn’t make out the figure in the low light of the alley.

“Oh, come here, you misunderstood furball,” the figure said, bending down and picking the cat up. You gazed up in amazement.

The cat hissed and sunk his teeth into the hand of the figure, who didn’t even let out a yelp.

“Well, that’s not very nice!” he said. He cocked his arm and tossed the cat over his shoulder. It slammed into some trash cans before scampering off toward the street.

You sighed in relief, thankful that this passerby distracted the feline before it could eat you. Pushing against the stretchy plastic, you began to slide your way back to the ground. You had to make it back to the comfort of your home before you almost died. But suddenly, a black boot stepped down in front of you and you shrieked, falling backwards and hitting your head on the ground.

The human was looking right down at you.

Your breath picked up as you got back on your feet. Where could you run to? He was blocking your way. Before you could even take a step, a black hand reached down and scooped you up. You cried out, desperately trying to jump off before he could get you. But you were too high up now.

The human took their other hand, index finger pointed up, and pinned it down on your chest to keep you in place. Your breaths became staggered.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

You craned your neck up, trying to get a good look at your captor. His skin was covered in red  leather, with strips of black in places. He had two poles sticking out from his back and his eyes were little white dots.

Oh, shit.

Deadpool suddenly whipped his head around. Sirens were blaring in the distance.

“Well, I should probably get the fuck out of here!” he said cheerfully. Closing the hand containing you, you could only hold your breath as he jumped around, presumably going to a hiding spot. After what felt like forever, his fingers uncurled and light flooded in. You closed your eyes for a moment, but only a moment. You looked around– you were on a rooftop.

Deadpool bent down. This was the guy who killed people for breakfast. Your mind was racing, a million thoughts telling you all the terrible things that were about to happen.

“W-what are you g-going to-to do with m-me?” you stammer. You doubt he would tell you.

“What am  _I_  going to do with  _you_? Ohh, how I love that question,” Deadpool sighed. His masked fingers suddenly pinched your ankle and he pulled you up, dangling you upside down.

“Well, hun, I could eat-cha right up, right now!” he said, lowering you down.

You screamed and thrashed around, trying to break his grip. Suddenly, he stopped.

“HA! I’m just kiddinggg!” he sang. He pointed to where his mouth should be. “I can’t even eat you with this mask on! But I’ve never been one for cannibalism,” he said, tsking at himself. “Too far, too far.”

You were shaking so much you thought you were going to fall anyway. Deadpool could feel it, too.

“Aww, darling, you’re shaking so hard!” he said, bringing you back down to his palm and pulling you close. “Am I… am I scaring you?” he gasped. You weren’t sure if he was being sarcastic or genuine.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to read the expression of a face under a mask. But you’ve heard of Deadpool before. You knew he was Wade Wilson; the Merc with a Mouth; mentally unstable. You knew he could switch from A to B just like  _that_. The last thing you wanted to do, though, was offend him.

“I-I mean… I just…”

“I’m not going to hurt you! I mean, that’s not my intention. If I  _do_ end up hurting you, well. Collateral damage, right?”

He saw your horrified expression and cleared his throat.

“No guarantees.”

You could barely muster up what to say. “I’ve never been… caught by a human before.”

“Caught? Darling, I  _saved_ you. You know how nasty those cats can be. I mean, look at you. You’re  _tiny_. How many times a day do you almost die?”

You took a moment to answer. Wade gasped dramatically.

“As many times as  _me_?”

You shrugged. “On a good day… probably, uh, five times.”

Wade put his hand to his mouth. “You must be terrified. All the time! How do you do it?”

He flipped to his stomach and kicked his legs up behind him, placing you down in front of his face. You still haven’t stopped shaking. He was absolutely massive. And unpredictable.

He poked you with his finger, multiple times, trying to knock you down. You kept stumbling backwards, but you stayed on your feet.

“Can you–”  _poke_ “PLEASE–”  _poke_ “Stop doing that!” you shout, finally falling to the ground.

“Ugh, you’re just so cute!” Deadpool cooed. “You know, I’ve heard of tiny people before, but I never thought they were real. Yet here you are!” He laughed. “I mean, my fingers are bigger than your entire body!” He took two fingers and put them down next to you, moving them around like legs. He even struck a few little poses, which you actually found quite enjoyable.

“Ah! Is that a  _smile_ I see on your face, little guy?” he gushed.

You rolled your eyes, still smiling.

“ _Man_ , I’ve always wanted a pet. And now I have one! Holy shit, this is going to be so much fun. I can take you everywhere!”

You gulped. A pet? Hell no.

“Y-you can’t– I-I’m not–” you tried, but he was too busy talking to hear you.

“Everybody always gets sick of me after, like, five minutes. And yeah, I get it. But this is the best fucking thing to ever happen to me! Ha! Oh, you don’t even have a choice!”

Okay, yep. You were screwed.

“If I had pockets, you would definitely be in one right now,” he said.

You furrowed your brows. “W-well, I’ve actually always thought of pockets as…”

He turned down to you, actually listening to what you were saying.

“…suffocating,” you continued. “I-I’m kind of glad you–”

Suddenly, he picked you back up, sitting up and dangling his feet off the ledge. “Well, let’s try it!”

“Wait, what?!”

But before you knew it, you were down to his waist. He flipped open one of the brown pouches that was resting on his belt and plopped you in, buttoning it up. You tried to gather yourself, but he was moving so much you began to get sick.

“Get cozy! We’re going for a ride!”

Deadpool flung himself off the building, loving the way the wind howled around him.

“ISN’T THIS FUN?” he yelled, tapping the pouch you were in.

You were so, so going to die.


	2. Dinner Date

You were positive you were going to vomit. You had to close your eyes just to keep yourself from passing out. You felt yourself going up, up, up… and promptly falling back down, down, down. This repeated several times, which is about several times more than you’re equipped to handle.

Deadpool lightly tossed you through the air, chuckling at your cries of protest as you flailed from palm to palm.

“What are you yelling about? That looks like so much fun. I wish I had someone to toss me around,” Deadpool said flirtatiously. You groaned as you landed on his palm, half from the pain, half from his tone of voice. After he had flung himself off a building with you in his pocket, he had taken you back to his “living hole” (“That’s what it is, hun,” he had told you, “just a shitty hole in the ground where I just so happen to come back to every night and wake up in every morning.”), he had taken pleasure in doing all sorts of humiliating things with you– putting tiny clothes on you, dangling you by the shirt, trapping you inside a drinking glass because it distorted your proportions like a funhouse mirror. You were just thankful he wasn’t intentionally hurting you.

You felt your stomach grumble, and Deadpool heard it too.

“Oh, shit! I forgot! I need to feed you!” With you in his hand, he skipped over to the grimy-looking kitchen and started to rummage through some cabinets.

“You like… uh… Frosted Flakes?” he asked, pulling the cereal box from the top shelf. Empty.

“Shit,” he mumbled, tossing it behind his shoulder and onto the floor. “What about… bread?”

He opened up the bag. There was mold. Everywhere.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, throwing that behind him too. “I live like a fucking pig.”

“I-I’m really not that picky,” you muttered.

He whipped his head down to you. “You want me to go and grab that moldy bread?”

You laughed lightly. “No. I mean… I always have to steal leftover food scraps. I’ve never had… real food before.”

Deadpool stood and stared at the messy cabinets, mind trailing off for a moment. “Oh! I know,” he said, snapping back to the present. He picked up the phone, dialed the number for the local pizza place and placed an order for a large mushroom and olive pizza.

You were now perked up in his hand. “Pizza?” you said excitedly. “I-I’ve always seen people eat it, b-but I’ve never had it before!”

Deadpool smiled under his mask. “Trust me, it’s delicious. Hopefully this time I won’t have to pull a knife on the delivery boy.” He let out a loud laugh. “Oh. Good times…”

He went over to the couch and flopped down, placing you down on the couch cushion next to him. You looked up at him in terror– even when he was sitting down, he was still at least 50 times your size.

“So, you still haven’t told me your name.” His voice was still impossibly loud from all the way up there.

“I, uh… I’m… I’m Rigby,” you said, not daring to reveal your actual name. You didn’t really plan on staying long, after all.

“Ah, okay, ‘Rigby,’” he said, using air quotes around your fake name. “And, uh, how long have you been like that?”

You raised an eyebrow at his question. “Been like what?”

“Uh, really tiny!”

“My whole life?”

“REALLY? I thought for sure someone did this to you,” he said, lightly poking you.

“No…” you trailed off. You never really contemplated your existence before. “It’s been like this forever. I go from place to place and just… steal what I need.”

Deadpool let out a small gasp. He didn’t feel bad for taking you back home with him– he saved you!– but it hurt when you described your life to him. His mind flashed back to being tortured by that bastard Francis. How it feels to be in a place where nobody wants you. Where you’re so vulnerable all the time.

As Deadpool started droning on and on, you realized that he wasn’t taking glances down at you. He was talking and staring at the wall. This is it. My escape.

Slowly, you walked toward the edge of the couch, grabbing on to a piece of fabric sticking out. The stitching was loose enough for you to grab onto, and you quickly scrambled down to the floor.

When he snapped out of his trance, Deadpool looked down to ask you something.

But you were gone.

You were on the carpeted floor now, trying your best to push through the thick material. It wasn’t tall enough to hide you, but it was enough to make it difficult to run. Your heart began to race as you realized this might not go the way you planned.

“Oh shit!” Deadpool said, standing up. You glanced back as he rose to his full height and you almost tripped. “How did you even get down from there?”

You started to stumble as you picked up speed.

“Come on, ‘Rigby!’ I know you’re down there,” he said, scanning the floor. No way you could have gotten far. “Be careful, or big ol’ Deadpool’s gonna step on ya! I don’t wanna have to clean that shit up!”

You knew he was kidding, but you could hear the hint of annoyance in his voice, which only made you run faster.

“Ah! There you are! You little rascal,” he said, putting one knee to the ground.

The ground shook and you turned around, yelping as a gloved hand descended toward you. You breathed heavily, wiping sweaty strands of your hair out of your face. If you could hide under the pile of junk just a few feet in front of you, he’d never be able to find you.

“Come on, Aunty Deadpool won’t hurtcha,” he said playfully, positioning his fingers to grab you.

“Like hell you won’t,” you replied, and you leaped off the carpet, aiming for a piece of junk.

You never made it.

“Gotcha!” Deadpool said cheerfully. He had grabbed you out of the air, holding you in his fist.

“NO!” you screamed, punching and kicking at his fingers. “LET ME GO! PLEASE!”

“Aw, how cute,” he cooed, smiling at the soft taps on his fingers. He uncurled his fingers, revealing your wide eyes, sweating face and trembling form.

“Listen, tiny, I don’t appreciate you doing this after all that I’ve done for–”

_Ding dong._

Deadpool stopped mid sentence. “Oh boy! Pizza’s here!”

He merrily strode to the door, you still sitting in his open palm. You clutched onto one of his fingers to stabilize yourself. He swung open the door.

“Uh, hi, that’ll be $8.75, sir…” the adolescent voice trailed off as his eyes laid right on you. You stared right back at him, frozen with fear.

Deadpool handed him a crumpled lump of cash, thanked him for the pizza and slammed the door, the delivery boy’s gaze still locked onto you.

“Hope you like mushrooms,” he said, carrying you back to the table. He placed you down inside the pizza box.

“Have as much as you want,” he said almost playfully, knowing you could barely make a dent in this pizza. You flinched as his hand reached down next to you, but it just took a slice instead.

You slowly walked over to a piece, bending down to fit the whole thing in your mouth. Sauce splattered on your clothes, but you didn’t even care because it was delicious. You ate for what had to be 20 minutes straight. You had never had access to this much food in your entire life.

Deadpool watched intently as you dug into the pizza. While you only managed to eat a bit off the end of one slice before collapsing of a full stomach, he could tell by the way you ate that this was a first experience for you.

“This is cute!” he said, shoving another slice into his mouth. “We’re having a dinner date.”

You stifled a laugh. You looked up and noticed how… messed up his exposed skin looked. Your staring was obvious.

“This is a story for another day,” he said, tapping his skin. “We gotta get down to business, though. Starting with, what’s your real name?”

You froze for a moment, but there was no use carrying on the lie. Somehow, he had seen right through you. But he never seemed mad. Even when you tried to escape, all he did was catch you and feed you pizza. You would have never guessed it, but he actually seemed to… care.

You took a breath before speaking.

“I’m (Y/n).”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the kudos! :))


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